


Lewis and Clark: Pain, Pirogues, and Lullabies

by bcathryn



Category: Historical RPF, Lewis and Clark
Genre: Historical, M/M, Male Slash, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcathryn/pseuds/bcathryn
Summary: After a hunting trip leads to an embarrassing injury for Lewis, Clark tries to nurse him, as well as attempt to get physically intimate without causing pain. Clark begins to reminisce sadly about an important woman from his past, but his memory of her helps him get Lewis through a painful night.





	Lewis and Clark: Pain, Pirogues, and Lullabies

Clark felt too anxious to finish his dinner. He abandoned his bowl by the fire and made his way to the creek side, where Lewis was stretched out on his belly in the pirogue. His chin was cradled in his crossed forearms, and he was undressed, save for a shirt and a cloak draped over his shoulders. 

Upon hearing his partner approach, Lewis looked up and winced. “Clark, it hurts.” For the first time since the injury, Lewis’s gray eyes filled with tears. 

Clark cautiously stepped into the narrow boat and knelt behind Lewis. “I know it does,” he said sympathetically, carefully removing the old dressing and examining the wounds- so raw and red that Clark himself felt a sting race up through his own spine. “I wish that we could give you something for the pain…” Peruvian bark had quelled his high fever the night before but had done nothing for the agonizing pain. Poor Lewis. After two years of sore feet and aching calves from hours of hiking, after bouts of upset stomach and diarrhea that left him unable to ride a horse, now he was shedding tears.

Is it because it’s just me that’s with him? Clark wondered to himself. All of the other men had been told to allow the captain privacy; he would remain indecent until he healed. Besides, Clark was the only man in front of whom Lewis was comfortable weeping.

Or is it the embarrassment?  
Lewis had not been alone in the soreness, the exhaustion, the strange new diets that made him cramp and blow from both ends. But he was the only man who had been shot in a sensitive area by the nearly-blind Cruzatte and left to lie naked from the waist down for however long…

Clark positioned himself on his hands and knees beside Lewis’s feet. Even though Lewis’s slender thighs were parted only slightly, Clark could look forward, tilt his gaze downward just a little, and see what he wanted to see. Lewis’s balls. The pinkish folds of his taint. A narrow strip of coarse, blackish hair. His opening, which was just the length of one thumb away from one of the gaping bullet holes. Clark felt himself harden and had to look away.  
What is wrong with me, Clark thought to himself; I’m turned on by the sight of my partner’s sore, battered ass… 

“I wish I had an ointment to apply to the wounds,” Clark blurted, attempting to divert his own attention away from Lewis’s naked ass and toward his pain instead. “An ointment to relieve the pain.”

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to lie here for however long…” Lewis said, cringing. “No walking or sitting, and how… how will you pleasure me, Clark?” he whispered. 

“Carefully,” Clark answered, relieved, crawling closer to Lewis’s backside. “Very carefully.”

“Do you think it will ease my pain?”

“Only if I’m gentle,” Clark smiled. “It might take your mind off of the hurt, at the very least.” Cautious to avoid touching the wounds, Clark spread Lewis’s bottom apart and, with a fingertip, tickled his hole. There would be no safe, comfortable way for him to enter without brushing the wound nearest it; careful fingers and hands would have to do for now. He moved down and massaged Lewis’s taint, his pointer and middle fingers rolling forcefully in tight circles.

“Oh, Clark,” Lewis moaned, digging his fingernails into the damp bottom of the pirogue. He tried his best to relax, to avoid tensing up his aching rear, and his lips ached to press themselves against Clark’s mouth, just as they always did when the two fucked normally, Lewis on his back and Clark thrusting violently, passionately between his wide-open legs…

“I-I think we need to stop…” Lewis gasped, digging his mouth into his elbow to keep from yelping.

“Is something the matter?” Clark backed away and rested his hands in his lap. 

“It hurts too much all over.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Meri.” Clark pulled the Peruvian bark and clean bandages from his bag. “I’ll need to dress you again, though.” He cleaned and covered the wounds, then crawled out of the pirogue and sat by its side and took hold of Lewis’s hand. “Let me know of anything I can do that will help. And won’t hurt you.” He craned his neck over and smiled at Lewis. 

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep.”

“I’ll sit up with you until you can.” 

Lewis gave Clark’s hand a tight squeeze as another jolt of pain surged through his backside. The Peruvian bark generally produced a warm sensation; however, on the deep gashes, it stung and throbbed and left Lewis’s flesh red. 

Clark tried to recall: as a boy, whenever he was sick or hurt, what had his mother done to try to make him feel better? His lip quivered as he thought of his late mother, who had not lived to see him embark on this expedition…  
She would not have minded being here, right now, helping him tend to his beloved companion and easing his fears that he might hurt Lewis or fail in his attempts to nurse him. Clark sighed mournfully. She would have wanted to sit beside his elder brothers as they lied bleeding on the battlefield, just as she had sat beside his elder sisters as they endured the agonizing hours of childbirth…

His thoughts were interrupted as Lewis gasped and dug his fingernails into Clark’s palm, calloused from the wood of the oars and his rifle. “Damn Cruzatte,” Lewis groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Shh.” Clark leaned over the side of the pirogue and brushed his free hand across Lewis’s warm forehead. “Let’s try to keep quiet and rest.” He stroked the damp hair above Lewis’s ear and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

Clark peered into the pirogue and assessed the amount of space on either side of Lewis. Yes, there was enough room. He slowly hoisted himself into the boat and lied beside Lewis, who managed an appreciative smile. Sandwiched between Lewis and the boat’s wooden side, Clark rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm across Lewis’s upper back and nestled his face between Lewis’s neck and shoulder. He could hear Lewis sigh- was it with pleasure?- as he exhaled deeply into the flesh of his slender neck, just beneath his sharp jaw. 

“Clark,” Lewis whispered, gently nestling his nose and mouth into Clark’s coppery mane. A few moments later, both men looked up at one another and clasped their lips together. Lewis opened his mouth slightly to allow Clark’s tongue to slide between his teeth and meet his own. Even with his pelvis balanced upon the narrow seat of the pirogue, Lewis could feel himself harden and slid upward slightly, enough to relieve his dick of the pressure of his weight, of the roughness of the splintering wood beneath it. To his delight, Clark cautiously slid a hand downward and underneath him and allowed it to grasp what it wanted firmly.

“Ouch!” Lewis nearly bit down on Clark’s tongue as he yelped.

Clark jerked back suddenly. “Are you hurting again?”

Lewis nodded and buried his face in the inside of his bare elbow. “I just want to try to sleep now.”

Clark rolled back over onto his stomach and looked pityingly at Lewis and pondered. 

“I just remembered something my mother always did when I was hurting and couldn’t sleep.” Clark laid his arm across Lewis’s shoulders once again and leaned his head into Lewis’s cheek. He lied still, quietly, and listened to Lewis’s slow breathing. 

Clark began to hum. He did not recall the name of the tune or the words, but he knew it had been a favorite of his mother’s. She had sung it to him as a boy on rough nights, whenever he had been frightened by thunder or a bad dream or, like Lewis, was in discomfort. She had sung it to her grandchildren- Clark’s own nieces and nephews- when they came to visit as infants and toddlers and refused to fall asleep in their own cribs. It had succeeded in not only putting the young children to sleep, but also their grandmother. Clark remembered sitting beside her one night as she put his eldest sister’s baby to bed; her eyelids had grown so heavy that Clark had to escort her from the nursery. 

Clark felt himself smile with pride as Lewis yawned and turned his head to the side so he could see his partner. “Keep humming,” he whispered. 

Clark softly hushed him and continued. Within minutes, Lewis’s eyes closed. Clark himself began to feel sleepy. After taking one last glance at the sleeping Lewis, Clark began to rise, but then abruptly stopped himself. He certainly did not want to wake his companion. 

But what would the other men think if they saw the two like this?

Clark chuckled quietly and disregarded the worrisome thought. He would have to rise early anyway, much before everyone else, to re-dress Lewis’s wounds before their next day began.


End file.
